Wednesday, March 13, 2013

A review of Nose from the Napa Register

‘Nose’: Shades of purple in an unnamed wine country

Nicolaus Copernicus was the Renaissance scientist who figured
out that the earth revolves around the sun, contrary to the prevailing
conventional delusion that put it at the center of the known universe.
Copernicus
is also the name of the flagship wine produced by the Jerome Hutt,
owner of Hutt Family Winery in James Conaway’s new novel, “Nose.”
It is
set in an unnamed valley of Northern California with a sometimes
grandiose tendency to consider itself the center of the vinous universe.
Conaway
is a wine country troubadour, passing through and composing his works,
which include the non-fiction studies of the Napa Valley, “Napa: The
Story of an American Eden” and “The Far Side of Eden.” It’s fitting,
therefore that his “Nose” combines elements of romance and satire in a
highly readable, entertaining work.
That the fictional Hutt and
his winery come to a sorry end is no surprise; he’s not only a a
developer from Southern California, but he’s also the only unlikeable
character in an engaging cast: Of course, he’s doomed. But the downfall
Conaway devises for Hett, is so delicious — involving the headlong
descent of a renowned wine critic into tank of Copernicus — it balances
out the predictability.
First, however, one has to get through the
first two pages, which include one sentence that is 102 words long and
provides, in writhing detail, a description of an early morning coupling
of this wine critic with his hard-working wife, who has to navigate her
way between “twin masses of rendered haut cuisine and the very best
wine” — his belly and his chin — to arrive at more essential anatomy.
Egads,
one might think; have I just opened 50 shades of purple in the wine
country? But skim on, with averted eyes if necessary. It gets better,
and the prurient prose rarely reappears as the story takes over. I’m not
sure what the point of the weird opening is, except to establish that
the wine critic is large and his wife has the bulk, so to speak, of the
duo’s work. But then again, I’m also not sure why any sentence is 102
words long.
The critic is Clyde Craven-Jones, a dinosaur, not only
in size, but attitude: He refuses to bow to the power of the Internet,
even greater than his nose. “The last of the ruling Brits” he is
the publisher of “Craven Jones on Wine,” distributed in print only to
120,000 readers, and “a pass-along influence of, yes, a million.” He is
also the creator of the almighty 20-point ranking system for wine.
Possessor of a legendary nose (which has appeared in Newsweek), he
“breaks as well as makes, reputations, vintages, business deals,
marriages, even lives.”
At the outset of the novel (after the
first two pages), he stages what will be the climax of his storied
career tasting 10 cabernets, nine from prominent producers, and one that
arrives anonymously left on his doorstep, without a label, without any
identification. And here in this bottle, he discovers, for the first
time in his career, a perfect 20. He just doesn’t know who made it.
But
we do. It’s because it can’t be Copernicus (that wine had a label
anyway) and the only other winemaker in the book is a quirky,
nature-loving loner named Cotton “Calamity” Harrell, who owns seven
acres, named his wines Puddle-Duck and whom Hutt had tried his best to
either buy out or destroy.
Harrell is not the only hero of the book: Another one is — how gratifying — a journalist.
Lester
Breeden is a UC Davis graduate, who is lured away from his beat on The
Sacramento Bee to work for a daily newspaper in wine country called The
Valley Press. As soon as he finds a place where he can afford to live —
in the converted garage of a retired geology professor — he is laid off.
In
a brief aside here, I have to note that although the insider wine
details are vivid, I didn’t find much to recognize in the brief glimpse
one gets of the newspaper, overseen by a boss with a stop-watch and
staffed by a “handful of people standing idly around or staring into the
pale gray fog of their computer screens.” Then again, I’ve never been
beaten up by a thug for asking questions at a winery, something that
would generally be construed as bad public relations. I had to conclude
the basis for this must be another daily wine country paper.
But
no matter, the main thing is: A journalist in search of the truth as
hero. No matter if he is unemployed; that is the realistic touch.
Inevitably,
Les becomes a blogger, determined to tell the truth that the Press
refuses to cover, particularly about Hutt. He also helps Claire
Craven-Jones (the wife) find out who made the 20- point wine, and also
to carry on after her husband’s unfortunate episode with Copernicus.
A
second romance grows like a grapevine between the Harrell and Sarah,
the daughter of Hutt, who has to come to terms with the fact that
idealistic ode to values such as family, which her father had inscribed
at the entrance to Hutt have little to do with reality.
Circling
around these main characters are a cast of wine country characters, all
drawn deftly, and all engaging, except of course, the Hutt PR pro.
Is
“Nose” profound? No. Fun? Absolutely. And all too often, fun can be the
missing element when one is trying to hold onto a spot in the center of
the universe.